


Unlimited

by Yeomanrand



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Community: where_no_woman, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-18
Updated: 2010-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-07 08:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeomanrand/pseuds/Yeomanrand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Courtship of George and Winona</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unlimited

_Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did._  
\--Mark Twain

She's lonely and wild, come to Starfleet Academy after nineteen years in the sticks with a half-cracked grandmother she loves as meat loves salt. The city surprises her, exhilarates her; the Academy a revelation because she's never seen so many people in one place at one time, not even in Iowa City when grandma had taken her there to see her parents' grave. She's never been in school before but she'd passed her yearly educational exams with flying colors, top percentages every time, especially in mathematics. She'd torn down and rebuilt her grandma's old truck once a year from the time she was twelve; each time the old beast ran a little smoother.

When she was fifteen, gran had come in to the barn to find Winona standing in front of the plans she'd drawn on the walls, lips twisted, considering the diagram of the changes she wanted to make to the compression engine of the thresher and the calculations she'd made to be sure the energy expenditure would be sufficiently improved. She'd half-expected a scolding, but she'd also been careful to use charcoal on the whitewashed surface so the plans could be easily washed off when she was done; she'd just needed a bigger canvas to think on than the screen of her padd. But grandma'd stood there, studying Winona's design, and then stepped forward to swipe away one of Winona's careful lines. After that, they'd worked together, and Winona'd been given her grandmother's design books and old programs.

They never really talked about Winona going to the Academy, but then a week could pass without the two of them saying more than "pass the spanner" or "pass the peas." And when Winona'd received notification of her acceptance, her grandma just smiled and patted her hand.

Two weeks into classes, and Winona knows this is where she's meant to be. She loves being around her fellow classmates, and while she's a little surprised how many of them flirt with her, she's neither offended nor interested. She's respectful to the instructors, and quickly grasps the workings of and her place within the academic and military hierarchy. She's gregarious when she wants to be, and withdrawn when she's working. She's not sure if she has friends, but there are people she likes to be around, and people who like her company, and as far as she's concerned that's the way things should work. Grandma taught her how naming changes a thing, gives hard edges and bright lines and colors people's perceptions, and Winona doesn't want to limit her relationships with other people. Machines can't be freeform or they don't work, but people, she knows, need to be flexible.

This is how they meet.

She's on her knees, smudges of oil and grease on her face and her reds, trying to help an older group of cadets figure out why one of the simulators has stopped working. She glances up when her hands brush another's; her eyes meet the bluest eyes she's ever seen. Cobalt blue, she thinks, or perhaps blueprint blue; and she realizes they've both got their hands on the same gear.

"Ladies first," he says, releasing the metal with a quick grin, and she sighs.

"No ladies here," she says, "just mechanics and engineers." But she still pulls the gear loose, and sure enough finds a loose flange and a slipped belt hidden beneath.

Winona forgets to ask his name, which she doesn't realize until later, when she's telling her grandmother about him.

She doesn't see him again until after final exams, when they end up on the same shuttle. This time, she asks his name up front, and he laughs.

"George Kirk."

She resolves to make him laugh often. "Winona Emerson."

He's already calling her "Wy" by the time they land. They exchange comm codes and addresses before he's swept away by well-meaning relatives. She turns and smiles at her grandmother, who is waiting patiently and holds out her hands for an embrace.

Christmas Eve, George surprises Winona with a visit, and she takes him on his first sleigh ride. Her grandmother gives the two of them a sharp look and a sharper nod before Winona snaps the reins, and George looks back for a long moment.

"I don't think she likes me," he says, settling back down much closer to Winona's side. She shifts over a bit as well, drawn to his warmth.

"Are you kidding?" She laughs. "That was tantamount to permission to propose."

"Huh. Do you want to?"

She turns to look at him. His cheeks and the tip of his nose are rosy with the chill, and his blue eyes sparkle with unspoken challenge. Family, she realizes, can be unlimited, and sudden as this is she knows every human connection requires a leap of faith.

"George Kirk, do you want to marry me?"

He laughs again; she pulls the mare to a halt and he reaches up to curl his mitten-clad hand around the back of her neck.

"Winona Emerson," he says, and despite the laughter lingering in his eyes she knows he's just as serious about this as she is. "I would be honored."


End file.
